


You've Got Sucker's Luck

by bozothemoose



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Crossover, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bozothemoose/pseuds/bozothemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half-Life AU (but you don't have to have played it). Three ways Eames and Arthur could have gotten to know one another, and one way they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got Sucker's Luck

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to have played HL to understand this fic. Just know that scientists were bad, aliens invaded as a result, and life pretty much sucks for humans in the future. And some humans are worse than others and help suppress their own race. Anyway, just as a warning, this fic is a bit schizo and some of these are silly and some of them... aren't. Sorry if it's really weird. Anyway, I got some help from the Combine Overwiki and some inspiration from the wonderful works by Ross Scott, particularly Civil Protection, but a little bit of Freeman's Mind too. Title from "Exile Vilify" by The National. Oh, and for added retardation, I stole a line from The Road to El Dorado. Hell yeah, I'm immature. LONG NOTE IS LONG. ON WITH THE FIC.

_in a few hours_

 **BLACK MESA  
MAY 16, 200-  
07:45**

There is a new security guard at the entrance to the Advanced Biological Research Lab.

Arthur knows this because Sam, the previous guard, only ever nodded to him and occasionally said, “Good morning, Dr. Levine.”

Also Sam was about forty, squat, and had the habit of dozing against the side of the building when he thought no one was watching. Arthur had liked Sam.

Not-Sam is the complete opposite. He’s a hulking brute of a man, with a disconcertingly wide grin and he’s twirling his gun on his finger like a gunslinger or an oversized child.

“And who do we have here?” he purrs as soon as Arthur gets close. Arthur flips his badge out, trying to look like he’s in a hurry. Naturally, the man takes twice as long examining the badge as he needs to.

“Dr. Levine, huh?” he asks. He’s got a British accent. Arthur struggles to maintain his bored expression. It’s difficult when he gets an up-close view of the security guard’s lips.

“Yes. As you can see, I have clearance to this sector,” he says. “May I proceed?”

The man looks him up and down. Arthur feels slightly violated. The man regards him for a second, then smiles and sticks out his hand.

“Since I’ll be seeing you every day, the name’s Eames,” he introduces himself.

“Fabulous,” Arthur mutters. “Well, Mr. Eames, may I proceed?”

Eames makes a show of handing his badge back and opening the airlock. As Arthur rushes through, he pointedly does _not_ look back and so he definitely does not see that Eames has gone back to playing with his gun, whistling.

**

Two hours later, he’s just trying to stay alive.

If he never sees another one of those face-hugging alien _things_ in his life, it’ll be too soon.

He’s got no weapon, no idea where he is, and no idea of how he’s supposed to get out of this fucking complex.

So of course, this is when some giant green thing with tentacles for a face decides to amble around the corner and start spitting acid at him. He dives behind a stack of crates, but he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before it comes after him, and now he’s got nowhere to run.

Just when he’s resigned himself to death, two shots ring out, there’s an unearthly moan, then footsteps.

“Oi! Is anyone there?”

Arthur feels a wave of relief wash over him. “Eames?”

“Arthur?” Eames appears in front of him. There’s an enormous tear in his uniform, but he looks otherwise unscathed. He’s also still got his gun. “Thank god you’re all right,” he says, and there’s true relief in his voice. “This place got massacred.”

“Yeah,” Arthur pants. “It was a close call.”

Eames surveys him quickly. “Any weapons?” Arthur shakes his head. Eames grins and sticks out his hand. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.”

Arthur only considers the hand for a second before he takes it.

**

 _in a few days_

 **CITY 17 TRAIN STATION  
SEPTEMBER 12, 2016  
15:46**

“Look, all I’m saying is, I bet you can’t hit that pigeon from here.”

“And all I’m saying is, I have no interest in shooting a pigeon,” Arthur says blandly. He stares at a civilian across the street until they flee in the opposite direction before resuming his speech to his partner of three days, Eames. “For the fifth time today, we are here to inflict physical and emotional damage upon _humans_ , not helpless and defenseless-”

“Flying rats?” Eames supplies helpfully. “Oh come on, one shot, it’s not like you’re going to hit it anyway.”

Arthur is a professional. He really, really is. He just so happens to be partnered up with the one man in the force who brings out the worst in him. He nails the pigeon in one shot.

Eames makes a disgusted noise next to him and although Arthur can’t see his face through the mask, he can imagine it screwed up in horror. “I can’t believe you did that, Arthur.”

Arthur splutters. “But you-”

“We are _professionals_ ,” Eames says disdainfully. “Not some _hooligans_. Show some respect for nature, yeah?”

Eames, Arthur vows silently, will be on point the next time they have to raid a high-risk building. And he hopes against hope that Eames will be shot.

**

“We are supposed to be off-duty in _fourteen minutes_!” Arthur screams an hour later. “ _Why_ did you insist we go down that alleyway?”

“It looked interesting!” Eames pants. “How was I supposed to know that bloody _thing_ would be down there?”

“Good job, way to go, Eames,” Arthur snaps. “We’re going to die-”

“Hey now, you don’t know that-”

“It _ate_ our _guns_.”

“That’s okay. I have a plan.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, is this work of brilliance?”

“You, um, pet it.”

“Right.”

“And I… run!”

He’s off, dashing down the alley before Arthur can stop him. He expects Eames to go down in a fiery inferno or whatever horrible thing the creature behind them shoots, but nothing happens.

Arthur dares to peek his head over the concrete block they were hiding behind. The thing is asleep.

He makes a mental note to kill Eames as soon as they get back to HQ.

**

 _in a few weeks_

 **UNDERGROUND STATION 12  
JULY 24, 2020  
10:34**

 

He’s been by himself for four days with only the radio for company. Arthur is not displeased by this. Still, on the fifth day, someone from Black Mesa East shows up with another man in tow.

“This is your new partner, Eames,” the guy says. “He can bunk where Fredrickson used to be.”

Right, Fredrickson. Fredrickson was currently smeared all over a wall about ten minutes to the west. Arthur wasn’t exactly bothered by this. He’d come close to uprooting the entire Underground just because the guy couldn’t stand being cooped up in a sewer for weeks at a time.

The new guy is so big it looks like he’ll take up half of the station all by himself. Great.

“Whatever,” Arthur grunts. “That’s your mattress over there; don’t touch my shit; don’t bother me; we’ll be fine.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” The guy hitches his bag up on his shoulder as the guy from BME slinks off. “Can I at least know your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Right. Arthur.” Eames peers around the sewer. “Hey, are you at all bothered by the smell of paint?”

**

Eames entire bag turns out to contain one change of clothes and paint, which he immediately starts splashing over the walls of the sewer. Arthur opens his mouth to complain until he sees how good he is.

After that, he spends a lot of time just watching Eames work. It’s a better alternative to reading. He definitely doesn’t watch the way Eames’ arms flex while he paints.

Within a week half of the side wall is covered in paint.

Within two weeks they’re fucking every night.

And if they’re interrupted by the occasional fugitive, looking thoroughly disturbed and perhaps a tad jealous, well, Arthur doesn’t really give a damn.

**

 _in a few months_

 **CITY 17  
APRIL 9 202-  
18:44**

Ariadne disappears on a Wednesday.

Tiny, witty Ariadne, who looked at the drab buildings of City 17 like they were beautiful instead of depressing and who blushed when Yusuf down the hall gave her a half-smile one day in March. There’s no warning, not that Arthur expected one. One morning she just goes to work and doesn’t come back.

Arthur allows himself to hope she got away. She knows the maze of the city like the back of her hand; it’s definitely possible that she could have run. If she knew they were coming ahead of time.

He hopes she’s alive.

Her side of the dingy apartment is empty for a full week before she’s replaced. Eames is unlike anything Arthur has ever seen. He’s loud and shockingly cheerful. He draws happy faces in the grime on their windows and waves at the people in the street below.

He’s a dead man walking.

**

Arthur doesn’t remember anything about his life before the Seven Hour War. He was young and even if they didn’t drug the water, his memories would be hazy.

But he’s kept a meticulous record of every movement since. The little book, along with a loaded die his brother gave to him before he was killed, is tucked in the toe of a boot he never wears but pretends to so the Combine won’t take them. Every city, every apartment, every roommate. They’re just single words, or key phrases to trigger memories so he can conserve the small amount of space in the book. In the last few months, there’s been _Cobb_ , and under that just a few words. _Mal (shot)_. The girl three buildings down had given Cobb’s world a little sunshine until she was gunned down by Civil Protection. _Threw self off train_. He’d gone diving into the canal and Arthur had never even seen the body. Under _Ariadne_ he’s got _Robert, architecture_ , and the newest addition, _vanished_.

One night, while Eames snores away on his thin mattress in the corner, Arthur takes the notebook out and writes a single word.

 _Eames_.

**

Eames turns out to be a sort of good luck charm, which explains why he’s still alive. Two Combine raids of their building bypass their apartment completely. Eames is able to charm double rations at least once a month. He comes home right night with a fully-functioning microwave he found in an alley.

He trades it for a Glock and three pens. He gives the pens to Arthur.

“I know you’ve got that little book,” he says, quietly enough for any bugs to miss. “I didn’t read it. But your ink was almost gone, so I figured-”

“Eames,” Arthur breathes. “Thank you.”

Eames blushes. Arthur begins to fall.

That night, under _Eames_ , Arthur writes _pens_.

Before he can think better of it, he draws a happy face before stuffing the notebook in his boot.

**

Over the next few months, Arthur adds item after item into his _Eames_ column. Every single pet name Eames has taken to calling him. _Beatrice the African Violet_. Eames finds her in a dumpster and puts her in the window and talks to her while he makes the most he can out of their rations. _Grafitti_. Whenever they find Cyrillic letters winding their way around a building, Eames will translate and they’ll laugh at the dirty words.

On and on it goes. Arthur stops worrying about the wasted page space because he doesn’t want to forget a single thing about him. One night he caves and asks Eames to draw a self-portrait on the back side of the page. It’s the first time he’s ever allowed anyone to touch his precious notebook.

Eames doesn’t say anything. He only smiles and acquiesces.

And then, one night, as he watches Eames sleep, he writes the word he’s been thinking of but has been too afraid to put to paper.

 _Love_.

He shoves the notebook into the boot before taking it back out again a second later and running his fingers reverently over the word.

He gets it now, why Cobb threw himself into the canal after Mal died. He’s willing to do anything if it means he never has to say goodbye to Eames. Because documenting every single aspect of his personality would never be enough. Arthur will always be left wanting the real thing.

Well, he still has it. And he’ll be damned if he’s giving Eames up without a fight.

He crawls over to Eames’ mattress, notebook still in hand, and shakes him awake.

“Yes, darling?” comes Eames’ quiet voice in the dark.

For a moment, Arthur sits there and just works up the bravery to say what he needs to. “We need to find a way out of the city before they come and get one of us,” he finally chokes out.

Eames’ hand closes over Arthur’s in the dark. “I thought you’d never ask, love.”

**

As it turns out, they don’t have any time to plan at all. Arthur comes home from work the next day to find Beatrice and her pot smashed in the street.

Eames would never have let that happen. That can only mean one thing.

He’s dragged into the alleyway before he can even shout. Thankfully, it’s only Eames.

“Civil Protection’s here,” he whispers. “They’re looking for you. You need to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Arthur whispers back fiercely. There’s a flash of something in Eames’ eyes.

“I need to get a few things,” he says. “I’ll meet up with you in a half an hour by the train tracks, yeah? If I’m not there by then, _just go_. I can’t risk you being caught.” He presses something in Arthur’s palm. He opens his fist to find a poker chip. Eames gives him a tiny smile. “For luck,” he explains, then hands over his gun and kisses Arthur on the cheek. “See you at the train tracks, love,” he says, and before Arthur can protest any further he jogs out into the street.

Arthur runs.

Eames’ good luck token seems to work. He arrives at the train tracks without incident and huddles himself up in a boxcar, running his fingers over the poker chip until Eames shows up forty-five minutes later.

“I told you not to wait longer than a half an hour,” Eames hisses.

“And I told you I wasn’t going anywhere without you,” Arthur repeats calmly, though inside his stomach is doing relieved flips. “What took you so long?”

Eames sits down on a crate. “CP wanted to know where you were. I told them I hadn’t seen you all day; that the sole on my boot came loose and that I only came back to change them.”

“You don’t have a spare pair of-”

Eames takes his boot- _Arthur’s boot_ \- off and shakes it. A notebook, three pens, and a loaded die come tumbling out. “Couldn’t let you leave without your little book,” Eames explains sheepishly. “I know how much you love it.”

Arthur’s mouth works speechlessly for a moment before he blurts out, “I love _you_ , you idiot,” and launches himself at Eames.

He hasn’t really kissed anyone (that peck he gave Ariadne doesn’t count) since he was living in City 4. In the end, Sarah hadn’t been worth the risk she posed to Arthur’s good standing in the eyes of the CP in 4, and she had felt the same way about him. He’d never seen her again.

Eames, though, is worth the risk. He’s worth everything. He doesn’t know how long they sit, kissing in the boxcar. Finally, Eames pulls away reluctantly.

“We still have to get out of the city, darling,” he says apologetically, “And we’ve no idea how to do so.”

Arthur frowns. Then it hits him. “The canals,” he gasps.

Eames’ brow furrows. “Pardon?”

“Eames, the canals lead out of the city,” Arthur says, clutching his arm. Suddenly it all makes sense. Cobb tossing himself off the train tracks. Ariadne taking the long way to work past the waterways. They were getting out.

Eames picks up Arthur’s things and tucks them in the front pocket of his jumpsuit. Arthur takes the die back out and gives it to Eames. “I’ll hold on to your poker chip,” Arthur explains. “You hold on to this.”

Eames grabs the gun and Arthur’s hand. “Let’s go, then.”

They have to let go as soon as they exit the boxcar, and when they do, Arthur almost trips over something in the gravel. A red and silver crowbar.

Arthur grins and scoops it up before jogging after Eames into the sunset.

**

The next day, Gordon Freeman shows up at the City 17 train station and the Underground gets ripped to shreds.

Eames, as it turns out, is still Arthur’s good luck charm.

**


End file.
